


Fruitcake

by RembrandtsWife



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Christmas, Costumes, Fruitcake, Holidays, Intoxication, Multi, Musical References, Ridiculousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmastime on the good ship Voyager, and Neelix has decided to make an old Earth delicacy in celebration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fruitcake

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever Christmas fic for a fandom, written in 1998 for the Paris/Kim Slash Party mailing list. The musical numbers referenced are from the immortal soundtrack to "A Charlie Brown Christmas". God bless us, every one.

THE OVERTURE: Characters and setting by Paramount. Score by Vince Guaraldi with inspiration from Charles Schulz. Costumes in collaboration with Amirin Fashions. Fruitcake by Neelix Catering. Holiday madness by moi.

\---  
(Music: "Christmastime Is Here," instrumental)

"Captain! May I see you for a moment?"

Kathryn Janeway looked up from her computer terminal, which displayed the seventh of the more than thirty monthly departmental reports she needed to review. Neelix was standing in the doorway of her ready room, hands behind his back.

Janeway waved her morale officer in, grateful for a momentary distraction. "What can I do for you, Mr. Neelix?"

The Talaxian approached the captain's desk but did not take a seat. His hands stayed tucked behind him as he beamed on Captain Janeway with his usual good humor. "Well, Captain, I was doing some research on Federation holidays because, well, because our celebration of Prixin wasn't quite the usual due to my, uh, accident, and frankly, I was hoping to find some other holiday in the near future which we could observe to, well, sort of make up for it. And I found one." His smile grew even jollier.

Janeway waited. And waited. Then decided she'd better ask. "And what is it, Mr. Neelix?" she said, very patiently.

"Do you know what today is, in your old Earth calendar?"

Puzzled by the apparent non sequitur, Janeway shook her head. She'd stopped thinking in the Gregorian calendar years ago.

"It's December twenty-first. That would be the Winter Solstice on Earth. And that means it's almost Christmas!"

Despite herself, Captain Janeway smiled. Christmas. . . "Would you like to hold a Christmas party, Mr. Neelix?"

"I would love to, Captain! Oh, I realize not everyone on board practices that religion, or is even from Earth, but most Earth cultures celebrate the Winter Solstice with a kind of festival of lights, and so do cultures on other planets where a winter solstice occurs. I don't think it would offend anybody if we held a Christmas party."

"Then handle it, Mr. Neelix. Make the preparations, inform the crew." She smiled warmly. "I'm sure you'll do a fine job."

"Thank you, Captain. And to start the ball rolling, as your people say, I'd like to present you with a little gift." Neelix whipped out what he'd been hiding behind his back: a small rectangular tin decorated with a snowy scene within a border of holly. "It's a traditional Christmas sweet. I found the recipe in the computer and it looked delicious. It's called 'fruitcake'."

As the cool, heavy tin settled into her hand, Janeway's face fell. She'd always hated fruitcake. . .

\---  
(Music: "Christmas Is Coming")

"Are you coming to Mr. Neelix's fr-- Christmas party, Chakotay?"

Janeway's First Officer smiled at her over the clay table. "Yes, I am. I think we could use a little Christmas right now. Did you see that he's making it a costume party?"

"A costume party. . . " Janeway's voice trailed off, her hands slowed and then stilled on the responsive lump of clay, as she contemplated what she might wear. And what her virile First Officer might not wear. She shook her head fractionally and dragged her attention back to the task at hand. "A costume party will be lovely. Maybe I'll come as Mrs. Claus."

"Who?"

Janeway grinned. "Sorry, Commander, I forgot you weren't born on Earth. Well, to start the season off, I'd like to give you a little gift. It's an old Earth delicacy traditionally associated with the Christmas season." She whipped the tin out from under one of the clay-streaked rags it had been weighing down. "It's called fruitcake."

"Thank you, Captain."

\---  
(Music: "What Child Is This?")

Chakotay contemplated the glistening fruitcake. Despite what the Captain had told him, which the computer had confirmed, it didn't seem possible that this was a food item. Short of using his phaser, he hadn't found anything that would cut it. It sat on the pale brown plate, gleaming with touches of red and green and gold, daring him to violate it. An intoxicating aroma rose from the heavy cake-- literally intoxicating, since the recipe he had read called for liberal amounts of rum. When Chakotay's ancestors migrated from Earth to Darvon IV, they had left all alcoholic spirits behind, breaking with a tragic history of alcoholism. The Commander didn't even touch synthehol, himself-- too close to the real thing.

He bent closer to the fruitcake, inhaling the pungent fumes and watching the highlights change as his vision moved. It was almost enough to make him light-headed. . . No, it was enough to make him light-headed. The edges of his room were beginning to dissolve and swirl the way they did when he entered into deep meditation. Wondering if his animal guide would join him or if the fruitcake experience would bring him a new guide, he inhaled deeply and let himself drift off on the fragrance. . .

\---  
(Music: "Skating")

Chakotay was still recovering from his meditation experience with the fruitcake when Ensign Harry Kim came to submit his weekly report.

"Are you okay, Commander?" Chakotay was draped on his couch, looking like the fourth day of a three-day leave.

"I'll. . . be fine, Ensign. Thanks. What can I do for you?"

Looking just a trifle puzzled, Harry explained. "My weekly report is due today, sir, as usual. You weren't on the bridge, so I-- tracked you here to your quarters." Harry swallowed. "Sir, why don't you let me help you to Sickbay?"

Chakotay sat up and promptly fell back, dizzy and somewhat nauseous. "I missed my bridge shift? Oh, spirits, oh, Kathryn. . . Yes, thank you, Harry, maybe I had better go see the Doc."

Harry helped the older man to his feet and steadied him with one strong shoulder. Once they were in the corridor, away from the fumes of fruitcake, the Commander began to feel a little better.

"Are you coming to the Christmas party, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry grinned. "Tom and B'Elanna and I have great costumes picked out already."

Chakotay smiled. "Then maybe you'd accept a little Christmas gift from me, as a thank-you for helping me. You can go back to my quarters and help yourself to the fruitcake. . ."

\---  
(Music: "O Tannenbaum")

Harry sat on the floor of the holodeck, now programmed as a gym, and looked at the fruitcake. Absently, he grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off his face and neck and chest. His Anglican relatives had celebrated Christmas in traditional style, and so had Libby, but no one had ever made fruitcake. Cakes, cookies, fudge, but no fruitcake. The thing had shot off the table while he was trying to cut it and bounced vigorously off the wall. Inspired, he'd just had a fabulous workout bouncing it off the walls of the gym like a squash ball, but it was just too weird. Nothing that was rectangular and made of fruit and flour should be so resilient.

The holodeck door whooshed open, and Tom Paris came in. Harry beamed at his lover, also dressed for a workout in shorts and tank-top, as was Harry himself. He scrambled to his feet and bestowed on Tom a warm and sweaty hug.

"Mmmm. . ." Tom sniffed Harry appreciatively and squeezed him tight. "How come you smell so good when you're sweaty?"

"Centuries of martial arts masters in my ancestry," Harry returned, dragging his lips across Tom's neck. "Ready to work out?"

"More than ready." Tom grabbed a handful of Harry's butt and ground their hips together.

"Tom!" Despite his mock outrage, Harry moaned as Tom started nibbling on his neck. "Don't you want to, um, actually, ohh, work out?"

Tom nipped his lover's shoulder. "The way we do it, sweetheart, it is a workout." His attention was distracted by a glint of red and green from the floor. "Hey, what's that?"

Harry squirmed around, looked down. "Oh, that's a fruitcake Chakotay gave me."

"Fruitcake? Those things are lethal. You haven't tried to eat it, have you?"

"Well, I tried to cut it. That's when I discovered it would bounce. I've just been using it as a ball."

Tom bent over and picked up the fruitcake. It was now somewhat narrower and more elongated than before, but still in one piece. "A ball, huh? Looks more like a--"

Harry groaned. "Don't say it, Paris." Tom just grinned.

"Computer, engage privacy lock. Let's see what else we can do with this fruitcake."

\---  
(Music: "My Little Drum")

Tom Paris strolled jauntily down the corridor, freshly washed and clad in his uniform, with the tin of fruitcake under one arm. The doors to Engineering opened before him, and he was greeted by the sight of his other lover, Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres, bent over a console with her snugly-clad rear in the air.

Tom glanced around, saw that things were calm and backs were turned, and took his chance boldly. He slipped up behind B'Elanna and cupped his hand over her bottom, fingers nestled between her legs.

B'Elanna smothered a consonantal Klingon obscenity as she registered the scent of her attacker. Instead of turning and flinging Tom across the room, she merely glared at him and hissed, "Watch where you're putting it, flyboy, or you might lose it."

"I love you, too, B'Elanna," Tom said mildly. "Look, I even brought you a present. A Christmas present." He handed her the tin. "It's called fruitcake. You can do anything you want with it except eat it."

B'Elanna popped open the tin and sniffed inquisitively at the fruitcake, which was now almost cylindrical in shape. She fixed her fair-haired boy with a suspicious look. "And what have you and Harry been doing with it?"

Tom grinned. "Tickle him the right way and you might get him to tell you."

B'Elanna smiled fondly and allowed herself one gentle scrape of nails over Tom's cheek. "Get out of here, hotshot, and let me fix these relays."

Tom stole a quick kiss from the corner of her mouth and departed with speed.

\---  
(Music: "Greensleeves")

Tuvok was preparing for meditation when his doorchime interrupted. He carefully controlled his impulse to annoyance and then had to control an impulse to surprise when he saw it was the Chief Engineer.

"Lieutenant Torres."

She was dressed in Klingon fighting gear and had her batleth slung over her shoulder. In her free hand, however, was a small rectangular green tin.

"Merry Christmas, Tuvok," she grinned, holding it out to him.

Tuvok's eyebrow twitched. "I do not celebrate Christmas."

"You're coming to the party, aren't you?"

The Security Officer sighed almost inaudibly. "Mr. Neelix has prevailed upon me to do so."

"Then you can use this." B'Elanna tossed the tin and caught it. "I've been hacking at it for over an hour, and it's still in one piece. It'll take anything you can give it. Might help if meditation fails."

Intrigued, Tuvok accepted the unexpected gift. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I will. . . investigate the possibilities."

\---  
(Music: "The Christmas Song")

Seven of Nine, sometime known as Annika Hansen, was regenerating in her Borg cubicle when she received a visit from the Chief of Security.

"Tuvok," she acknowledged.

The Vulcan had his hands folded in the sleeves of his rust-red tunic. "I ave come to invite you to Mr. Neelix's Christmas party."

Seven stepped down out of her cubicle and faced Tuvok with cool curiosity. "I have been informed of this party. I have no desire to attend."

"I believe it is important to your successful assimilation into this crew that you attend. The winter festival of lights is an important one in many Human cultures, including the Scandinavian culture in which your parents were raised."

"Will you be attending this party?" Seven challenged.

"I am on my way there at the moment," Tuvok replied. He unfolded his arms and handed her the tin of fruitcake. "Permit me to give you this gift of a traditional Earth sweet. It is called fruitcake."

"It is a nutritional item?"

"I believe so."

Seven took the tin and opened it. A few crumbs surrounded the dented fruitcake. "I will try it." Slender fingers augmented with Borg prosthetic dug into the dense cake and broke off a bite-sized corner.

"I hope you enjoy it."

\---  
(Music: "Lucy and Linus")

"Neelix has really outdone himself," Captain Janeway murmured.

With a little help from Paris and the Delaneys, Neelix had decorated the largest of the holodecks for the Christmas party. Janeway and Chakotay were standing just inside a room whose almost black wooden beams and pillars would not have been out of place in an English manor house. To their left was an enormous fireplace, throwing off little heat for its size but all the right noises and the right smell, too. Along the right wall ran a seemingly endless table laden with food and drink. At the opposite end of the room from the entrance was a massive tree, lavishly decorated with lights, baubles, garlands of beads and of tinsel, and a twinkling star at the top which slowly ran through the whole spectrum of colors.

Leaning on her First Officer's arm, Kathryn Janeway made her entrance. She was dressed as Mrs. Santa Claus in a flowing red velvet gown trimmed with white fur at the cuffs and hem. A white apron edged with beautiful lace covered the front of the gown, and a pair of octagonal spectacles, perched on the end of her nose so as not to interfere with her vision, completed the costume. She had done her hair up in the bun she formerly wore every day and powdered it white like a Baroque gentleman's wig.

Chakotay had acceded to his Captain's request and dressed as a northern Father Christmas, a shaggy, half-wild figure in woodsy greens crowned with a wreath of evergreens and stray feathers. On one shoulder perched a plush raven figure, in deference to his Native heritage. In the dark green robe and brown boots, he made an impressive figure.

The other crew members had, for the most part, also taken Neelix's invitation and come in costume. Tuvok was wearing red, at least. The Delaney twins had come up with fantastic and scanty costumes that seemed to represent twin snowflakes. Samantha Wildman and her daughter, Naomi, were two cuddly bears in brown fur and festive red and green scarves. Even the Doctor was present, dressed all in black with a long coat and a top hat. As he passed the Captain and the First Officer, he screwed up his face, twisted his hands together, and sneered, "Christmas! Humbug!" Janeway burst into gales of laughter.

"Wait till you get a load of our favorite trio," Chakotay murmured.

Harry, Tom, and B'Elanna were standing by the crystal punch bowl, arm in arm. B'Elanna was wearing a variation on the Captain's costume of red velvet trimmed with white fur. While the Captain wore a full-length gown, however, B'Elanna's flared skirt ended well above the knees, and her sleeves were fitted rather than full. The brass buttons of her bodice were rimmed by white fur, and her dark face glowed merrily within a voluminous red hood, also edged in fur.

Tom was decked out in a green outfit reminiscent of some very old video Janeway had once seen, about Robin Hood. she reflected. His open-fronted dark green tunic was almost as shaggy as Chakotay's robe, its hem coming down in irregular points; his arms were bare, but pale green tights showed off the long, slender legs. A jaunty peaked cap of green tipped with a golden bell and green slippers with absurdly long tips that curled back above Tom's insteps, likewise tipped with golden bells, identified him as an elf.

It was Harry, however, whose costume was the most daring of the three, the Captain thought approvingly. He wore snug dark brown trousers and short heavy black boots. The golden, muscular chest and shoulders were completely, deliciously bare except for red suspenders. The glossy black hair was disarrayed and crowned with a surprisingly realistic set of antlers. However, the effect of realism was somewhat undone by the little red bulb on the end of Harry's nose, which periodically glowed brightly.

Janeway swept over to the food table with her First Officer in tow. "Get me some punch, Chakotay," she purred. Smiling, the Commander went to join the younger officers by the punchbowl. The Captain surveyed the gleaming dishes of candy, the plates of still-warm cookies, the frosty pitchers of egg nog and cider, the trays of cold meats garnished with. . . pink and purple roots. Oh, well, everything still looked and smelled delicious. Having skipped lunch, she began piling food unashamedly on her plate. 

"Nice costumes," Chakotay observed with a grin. He plunked the heavy crystalline dipper into the bright red punch. 

"You look good yourself, Commander," Tom returned. The little bells on his costume jingled with his motions. "A version of Father Christmas?" 

Chakotay shrugged. "I suppose so. I considered coming as Raven, who brings the sun, but the Captain talked me out of it. There's no solstice on my homeworld, so it doesn't matter." He took a second crystalline cup for himself. 

B'Elanna held out her empty cup. "Would you pour some for me, too, Chakotay?" Her flirtatious tone made her two lovers glance at her in mock suspicion and jealousy. Chakotay gave his former Maquis colleague his warmest smile as he poured frothy punch into the tiny crystal cup. 

Harry sniffed dramatically. "I guess it's over then. She doesn't want me to pour her punch any more." He turned away, hanging his head and sniffling loudly. Chakotay started when he noticed the brown and white deer's tail affixed to Harry's trousers at the base of his spine. 

Tom looped an arm around the younger man. "Now, Harry, you can pour my punch any time. And remember the fruitcake. . .?" 

Tom turned away, and the two men were soon giggling reminiscently. Chakotay cocked his head at B'Elanna. "The fruitcake I gave to Harry?" 

"You gave it to Harry? I got it from Tom after they-- well, I got it from Tom and used it for a workout with my batleth. Then I gave it to Tuvok, thinking if it could stand up to me, it could stand up to him." 

"I got it from the Captain and passed it on to Harry after he. . . gave me some assistance with a project. I wonder what Tuvok's done with it." 

Tuvok was standing near the tree, sipping a Vulcan herb tea and quietly enjoying the evergreen fragrance, when Neelix hurried up to him. "Isn't this a great party, Mr. Vulcan?" 

The Talaxian was dressed in a traditional elf costume somewhat similar to Tom Paris's. Neelix, however, was wearing trousers rather than tights, and the whole costume was striped red and green and orange and violet, in shades even more florid than his everyday suits. A string of tiny lights spiraled around the spiral-striped crown of the hat. Tuvok looked somberly at the morale officer and tried with great intensity to think of something positive to say. The melange of colors in Neelix's costume was not making it any easier. After a moment, he said quietly, "The food and the decor are most appropriate, and the crew appear to be enjoying themselves." 

Neelix beamed with sheer delight at the Vulcan's praise. "Thank you, Mr. Tuvok!" The Talaxian wandered off, looking faintly giddy at the sight of so many people having a good time at his instigation. 

Janeway was hanging on Chakotay's arm again, having just downed her fifth cup of punch. If anyone had told her that Neelix had used genuine 200-proof Talaxian whiskey to spike it, she would have been appalled, but after five servings, she was well past caring. 

"Chakotay, I believe you have mistletoe in your wreath. Are you familiar with the old Earth custom. . . " 

"I feel so self-conscious in this get-up," Harry said, reaching back to adjust his tail. 

"You look edible, Har." Tom gently snapped his lover's suspender, running the backs of his fingers over Harry's slightly irritated nipples. 

"I know, that's the problem." 

"Whaddaya think," Megan Delaney whispered to her sister, "can we get her away from the two of them long enough to make our move?" 

"I don't know," Jenny whispered back, re-pinning her twin's tiara. "The two guys can keep each other busy, but what if Klingons don't do same-sex scenes?" 

"Tom, my punch cup is empty." B'Elanna smiled with imperious charm. 

"And what do you want me to fill it with, my little snow queen?" Tom leered. 

"Get Harry over here. I want his tail." 

"Bah, humbug," the Doctor said to Ensign Vorik, with evident relish. 

Tom pushed the suspenders off Harry's shoulders and fastened his mouth greedily on one nipple. Harry groaned. 

"Tom, what if someone sees us--" 

"This tree is huge," spoken around Harry's nipple. "No one will see us. Now hold still --I'm warming you up for B'Elanna." 

"But I have to kiss you, Chakotay. You're standing under the mistletoe. Actually, anyone can kiss you if you're standing under mistletoe, but I'm not letting anyone else near you." 

"Why, Kathryn--" 

The doors to the holodeck whooshed open, and everything paused as Seven of Nine staggered in. Teetering on her high heels, she scanned the room with strangely bright eyes and then tottered over to Tuvok, who was seated by the fireplace talking to little Naomi Wildman. The little girl slid off the Vulcan's lap and shrank away behind her mother; she was still a little afraid of the "Borg lady," and the fact that Seven was wound from head to toe in silver tinsel garland didn't help. Seven plopped herself down, or perhaps merely fell, into Tuvok's lap. 

"I ate the fruitcake," she announced, her voice a little less crisp than usual. A collective gasp of horror went up. Janeway, Chakotay, Neelix, Tom, Harry, B'Elanna, and the Doctor all converged on the scene by the fireplace. 

"You ate a fruitcake? That fruitcake?" Tom's voice nearly squeaked. 

Seven's face took on an odd expression. The corners of her eyes crinkled up. Her lips parted, and the corners of her mouth crinkled up, also, showing her teeth. It took everyone a moment to realize that she was. . . smiling. "Yes," she said. 

The Doctor stepped forward and ran his tricorder over Seven. His eyebrows went up so far they disappeared under the brim of his hat. "To use a technical term, young lady, you are sozzled." 

"Sozzled?" Janeway interjected. The Doctor turned to the Captain with an amused expression. 

"She has just consumed approximately two pounds of rum-saturated fruitcake, Captain. Her Borg-dependent metabolism is completely unused to alcohol. As a result, she is as intoxicated as an infant would be under the circumstances." 

Seven hung woozily off of Tuvok's lap, still smiling, her arms wound around his neck for support. The Vulcan endured. "Am I costumed appropriately?" she asked. 


End file.
